


Compeer

by Elliewood



Series: Congruence [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 06:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1028341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elliewood/pseuds/Elliewood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one, not even Jim Kirk, magically wakes up two weeks after dying, looking gorgeous and functioning perfectly.  A lot of shit has to go down first...</p><p>A previously published and now re-posted add-on to STID.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I originally published this piece in August-September 2013, then deleted it in a fit of insecurity, and am now reposting it in a fit of somewhat reduced insecurity. If you've read it already, you can give it a pass -- there are only very minor edits of the older version included.
> 
> And this is the first of a series ("Congruence") of three works, intended to be read in order but functioning more or less independently as well.

 

There is nothing but darkness, and silence, and bitter cold.

_So cold._

He suppresses the urge to shiver as he looks about, his normally acute vision apparently useless in the landscape in which he finds himself. The blackness is impenetrable; the cold, absolute.  

_//Captain?//_

_//Captain, it is Spock.  Are you here?//_

He feels something stir in the darkness and tilts his head toward the slight movement.

_//Captain, I am here to help you.//_

No response.  He closes his eyes against the darkness.

_//Captain, please.  Let me help.//_

The tremor he felt earlier intensifies for an instant before fading.  He continues to listen in the stillness of the impossibly frigid terrain around him before deciding it is time to depart.  He will do nothing more for now.

_//Captain, I will return shortly.//_ With that, he...

***

...removes his hand from James Kirk’s face and rises from his position next to the sickbay biobed.  

“Doctor, his mind is intact.  I did not attempt to assess the extent of any damage because he is resisting my contact, but he is present.”

McCoy’s features sag with relief; he suddenly looks much older than his years.  

“Well thank God for that,” he breathes as he circles the biobed to check its sensor readings.  “I was afraid we waited too long to start CPR before getting him into the cryotube.”  He shifts his gaze toward Spock and frowns again.  “What did you find out in there?”

A pause, then a careful answer.  “He is cold.”

“Well,  _no shit!_   He’s been in cryostasis for over an hour now, his body temp is barely above three degrees!  What the  _hell_  did you expect?  Is that the best you can do with your Vulcan telepathic mumbo jumbo?   _Jesus_ fucking  _Christ!_ ”  

McCoy is livid with fury, index finger jabbing at the air in front of Spock’s chest.  Spock does not retreat.

“And he is frightened.”   _The tremor in his mind..._

The exasperation fades from McCoy’s face as he raises a shaking hand to his eyes, exhausted tears suddenly pushing at them from behind.  He lowers his gaze to his friend’s bruised and burned body.   When he speaks, his voice is quiet, drained.

“Can you help him?”

Spock nods.  “I believe so.”   He inclines his head toward the other recumbent form in the room: Khan Noonien Singh, his right arm newly set in a plastic cast, the rest of his limbs firmly shackled to the biobed upon which he lies, his pale face expressionless but attentive.  “Once we obtain Khan’s consent for the transfusion, that is.”

McCoy’s rage rebounds visibly as he seizes Spock’s upper arm to spin him back around.  He hisses, spitting his words like poison.  

“Well, why don’t you go  _get_  it, then?”

Nonplussed, the Vulcan turns to approach Khan, his hands clasped neatly behind his back.  Each regards the other in silence.  Spock speaks first 

“Khan, you have the opportunity to atone for the many lives you have taken.  You can save the captain’s life.”

Khan turns his head to observe the still figure in the cryotube, then shifts his pallid gaze back to Spock’s face.  Words ooze out of him like dark honey.  

“Why would I want to do that, Mr. Spock?”

“Because it is logical.  You have much to lose right now: your freedom, your people, perhaps even your life. You can curry favor with those who will judge you and decide your fate by making this gesture.”  

The upward twist of Khan’s mouth doesn’t qualify as a smile; his eyes are fixed, unblinking and icy as they hold Spock’s.  

“Why don’t you just inject me with one of Dr. McCoy’s hyposprays and take what you want without my consent?”  

McCoy’s head whips around from Kirk’s biobed to glare at Spock’s back; he has already begged for that option but has been repeatedly denied by the first officer.

Spock’s calm belies the viciousness of the attack he had unleashed on Khan only an hour before. “Because that is not what he would want.”  

“Ah yes, because he is the captain with a conscience.”  The glacial eyes narrow as the smile leaves his face.  “So you, the  _rational_  Vulcan who just tried to end my life so savagely, you think  _now_  to act in accordance with your dead captain’s conscience?”

“I seek to follow his wishes, yes.”

“And did he wish you to kill me, Mr Spock?  Or was that your own idea?”

“My own.”

“Mm hmm.”  Khan looks over at the cryotube again, then back at Spock.  “Tell me, Mr. Spock.  If you love him that much, why do you not do what you wanted to do in the first place -- kill me, and use what was left of me to bring him back?”  

Spock is silent.  Khan chuckles humorlessly.  

“You are not a warrior after all, Spock.  You’re not even a very good Vulcan, are you?  To consider the  _feelings_  of others, especially  _dead_  others, before taking action?  Don’t Vulcans abhor feelings?”

“No, but we seek to master them within ourselves.  That does not preclude our respecting the feelings of other beings.”

“Especially those precious to us, eh, Mr. Spock?”

Spock does not hesitate.  “Yes.”  

Grey eyes meet brown as each examines the other without wavering.  This time, Khan is the first to speak.

“Very well, Mr. Spock.  You may have what you require to restore your captain’s life.”  He turns his head away from Spock to look up at the sickbay ceiling.  “Dr. McCoy, you may proceed whenever you are ready.”

Spock moves to seat himself back at Kirk’s bedside as McCoy wheels the dialysis apparatus toward Khan’s biobed.  

“I think a transfusion would be the best approach.  We would need to sedate you.”

“I expected nothing less, Doctor.”  

Khan extends his right arm toward McCoy, who pulls up his sleeve to scrub his skin with a disinfecting wipe before attaching the line that will pump his blood into the serum separator.  Khan watches the process with detached amusement.

“And you, doctor.  Would you have scrupled to ask my permission, had Mr. Spock not done so?"

McCoy’s does not look up from the coiled tubing in his hands, but his response is as emphatic as it is immediate. 

“ _Hell_  no.”

“Well, Dr. McCoy, perhaps  _you_  are the warrior here.”  Khan looks back up at the ceiling, still smiling, as McCoy places a sedative-loaded hypospray against his neck and pushes the button.  

Spock waits to speak until McCoy returns to Kirk’s bedside.  

“Doctor, I request permission to remain with the captain during the transfusion.  I would like to assist his mind in making the transition.”

McCoy frowns as he inserts a line into Kirk’s left jugular vein, and tapes it to his skin.  “Coming back to the living from the land of the dead -- if that doesn’t make you crazy, what would?”  

Spock opens his mouth to answer, then realizes that the doctor is asking a rhetorical question that requires no response on his part. 

“If we have to ventilate him, or shock him to restart his heart, we’d need you to get out of the way.  Other than that, I can’t think of any reason for you not to stay.”   He straightens up from Kirk’s biobed and rubs one hand down the back of his neck.  “As long as you dress appropriately -- you know, scrubs.  I’m sure I have something in your size.”

Spock nods and wonders, not for the first time, why humans feel compelled to state the obvious.  He decides to ignore the comment even as McCoy pulls a surgical top and pants from a supply drawer.

“I will need a few moments to prepare,” he says, rising and taking the scrubs into McCoy’s office.  The door closes behind him.  

“God  _damnit_.” McCoy’s muttered oath is more of a supplication as he turns back to check the transfusion apparatus.  His fingers tighten the already secure connections as his tired brain struggles through its mental checklist.  Dissatisfied but uncertain as to why, he rolls the transfusion assembly into position between the two supine figures and pushes the chair to the left of Kirk’s biobed just as Spock emerges from the office, his standard issue uniform exchanged for the light blue scrubs.  He catches McCoy’s eye as he sinks down onto the chair and nods his readiness.

McCoy evacuates the tubing connecting his patients to the transfusion apparatus; by the time he turns back to Spock, the Vulcan’s fingers are already positioned on the left side of his captain’s face, his eyes closed in concentration.


	2. Chapter 2

_The landscape is different this time -- still dark but not pitch black; instead of silence, the roar of continuous wind fills his ears.  A vicious, snow-saturated wind that makes the ever-present chill even more numbing.  He steels himself against the blasts of wet frigid air and calls out into the darkness._

_//Captain, it is Spock.  I have returned.  Please respond.//_  

_The storm weakens slightly, allowing his sensitive ears to detect a slight groan beneath the wind’s roar.  He turns toward the sound and spots a dangerously pale figure a few meters away on the ground, curled into a ball, shivering uncontrollably as the snow whips about it._

_Kirk._

_He moves to the huddled form and easily lifts him off the ground, cradling him in his arms.  Kirk’s eyes are screwed shut against the wind, his arms wrapped around his own chest, _his hair matted into crust with snow._ Shivers wrack his entire body._

_//Captain, can you hear me?//_

_No response._

_//Captain, please listen to me.  Envision a situation where you feel secure or comfortable.  I will be able to shelter you there if you create such an image in your mind.//_

_Still no indication from Kirk that his words have been heard, but over his shoulder, he senses a piercing of the blackness.  He turns, still holding Kirk in his arms, to see a structure, apparently a dwelling, about fifty meters away.  Its pointed roof is covered in snow, but smoke swirls from a central chimney, and its glass windows pour light onto the snowy field around it._

_Warm._

_He pushes through the biting wind toward the home’s invitation, his captain light and icy in his arms._

***

 

“Dr. Marcus, be prepared to reverse the cryogenic sequence.  We’re almost set to go here.”

Carol Marcus glances at the apparatus that is drawing blood from the unconscious Khan and partitioning his serum in a holding chamber.

“Doctor, at what point do you plan to start the transfusion?”  

McCoy closes his eyes momentarily and rubs his forehead.  “Honestly, I don’t know.  My best guess is that we bring his heart rate up a bit and his body temp up to around 10, then push the serum bolus to regenerate his vasculature. Then once we get him up to 30 or so, we’ll start the dextrose I.V. drip, and if  _that_  goes well, we go all the way to 36 or 37 and start the transfusion.  Then we’ll see what we’ll see.”  He looks down at Kirk’s body on the biobed, then up at the bed’s display.  Doubt just small enough to remain unacknowledged was curling languidly at the base of his brain.  “Heart rate, two bpm...respiration, one...temp, three degrees.  Looks good, I guess.”

Marcus selects an empty hypospray from the instrument tray and withdraws some of the golden serum into it, then places it back on the table within McCoy's reach.  His eyes drop to it; otherwise, he is motionless.  She waits.  McCoy remains still.

“Doctor, we’re ready to begin on your mark.”  Her crispness an attempt to reverse McCoy’s hesitation.  He shakes his head.

_gotta work can't not work can't fuck this up oh god Jim why the fuck did you do it why are you making me do this you stupid son of a BITCH_  


“Okay. Okay, let’s do this.”  

_I Do Solemnly Vow, to That Which I Hold Most Dear..._

Marcus enters the code on the cryotube’s keypad and the biobed sensors spring to life.  “Body temperature rising, Doctor... four degrees..."

_do you ever even THINK about anyone else other than yourself and your goddamned hero complex_

McCoy sighs, grimaces, and grinds the heels of his hands into his smarting eyes...

_...That I Will Not Withdraw From My Patients in Their Time of Need..._

"Five degrees...”

...then blinks down at Spock, seated next to the biobed with eyes closed, his face the picture of calm...

"Six degrees..."

_and I'm just supposed to pick up the pieces and put you back together again and again_

...the fingers of his right hand spread across the meld points on Kirk’s left jaw, cheek, and forehead. 

"Seven..."

_...That I Will Maintain This Sacred Trust..._

He checks the sensors, again, and sighs, again.  His gut is rolling.

_how long do you think I'll keep doing this for you you idiot FUCK_

"Eight degrees, Doctor..."

He picks up the hypospray.

_i will never let you do this to me again you self-centered asshole never never never do you fucking hear me_

"Nine..."

He positions the hypo against Kirk's cold neck with a nerveless but steady hand.

_...I Make This Vow Freely and Upon My Honor._

_can't not work please god please_

And depresses the trigger.

 


	3. Chapter 3

_The front door opens into a short hallway leading to a flight of stairs.  To his left, he sees a communal area with chairs, a sofa, and a fireplace that radiates welcome heat.  To the right, a table bearing various food items.  His nose wrinkles with distaste; the oleaginous odor of cooking animal flesh pervades the air._

_He carries Kirk forward and up the stairs to the second floor.  On the landing to the right, he finds a bathroom equipped with a hydro shower and tub.  Shifting the captain’s weight to one arm, he uses his free hand to start filling the tub and allows several centimeters of water to accumulate before he carefully lowers Kirk in the warm bath.  The captain does not respond any more to being put down than he had to being picked up; he appears catatonic._

_//Captain, can you hear me?//_

_Straightening, he looks around the bathroom for something he can use to pour the water over Kirk, and finding nothing suitable, he settles for soaking a bath towel in the warm water and repeatedly wringing it out over him as he kneels on the floor next to the deepening bath.  White skin gradually warms to pink as small chunks of ice loosen from the captain’s hair and splash into the tub to melt innocuously away.  The shivering slows, then stops as Kirk sits huddled in the tub with his knees drawn up to his chest, eyes still clamped shut._

_He waits a few minutes more, then shuts off the taps.   Delicate tendrils of steam rise from the water's surface.  The only sound in the room is a steady drip from the leaking spout._

_//What is wrong?  Why do you resist contact?//_

_He leans forward to pull the stopper, allowing the bathwater to drain while he dries Kirk’s back, neck, and hair with another towel.  When the tub is empty, he wraps the towel around Kirk’s waist and stoops to pull him out of the tub, a task made marginally easier by the increased pliancy of a non-shivering body but still hindered by its dead weight._

_He carries the unresponsive form out of the bathroom and down the narrow hallway, stopping at a door bearing a crudely hand-lettered sign:_

_JIMMYS ROOM KEEP OUT THIS MEANS YOU NO GROWUPS NO TEENGIRLS_

_He pushes the door open with one foot and looks around at the child’s bedroom, sparsely furnished with a rumpled twin bed at one end, a bookshelf in which stacks of books compete with myriad other items for the limited available space, a small untidy dresser with a lamp fashioned to resemble an antique airplane, and a toy box out from which model hovercraft and starships spill onto the floor.  The walls are adorned with posters and pictures of people and places he does not recognize and that he doubts are all actually real.  He wonders at the contrast between the way Human and Vulcan children are raised; his own bedroom had never been so cluttered with nonessentials nor so lacking in organization._

_Having indulged his curiosity, he moves toward the small bed and sits awkwardly on it with Kirk, still wrapped in the towel, on his lap.  He curls one arm around Kirk’s shoulders to steady him while briskly drying his legs and feet with the other._

_//Jim, please.  Let me help.//_

_At last, he feels something in Kirk relenting.  The tense body sags against him with a barely audible sigh, the damp head dropping to rest against his right shoulder and the arms unclasping to relax and open down onto his lap.  He takes advantage of the opportunity to dry the chest that Kirk had been protecting; then, his ministrations finished, he rewraps the towel tightly around Kirk’s trunk and encircles it with his arms to hold it in place._

_//Captain, I must inform you of what is soon to occur.  Please open your mind to me.//_

_Eyelashes flutter on his collarbone.  Angling his gaze down, he finds himself apprehended by one impossibly blue eye._

_//Spock.//_

_//Yes.//_

_//You won’t like what you see.//_

_He feels a mild disorientation, as though he were falling into that blue pool, followed by a twinge of trepidation.  He draws a breath, swallows the sudden nausea that crawls up his throat, and tightens his grip._

_//Show me.//_


	4. Chapter 4

 

_He is on his knees, digging eagerly into wet sand with small boyish hands, a single yellow sun high above him in a brilliantly blue, cloud-studded sky.  Earth._

_He remembers this trip.  Many years ago his mother had obliged his family to spend a month at an oceanside location on her home world for what she called “vacation.”   Sarek had been restless at the notion of enforced leisure time and agreed to it only on the condition that he be allowed to bring as much work along as he felt compelled to complete during their stay.  He and Amanda are now seated in matching folding chairs some distance from their son, sheltered from the sun’s rays by a striped beach umbrella and holding PADDs in their hands, but where hers is held up to her alert and reading gaze, Sarek’s is lying on his lap, his hand resting only half upon it as he dozes in his beach chair.   He sees Amanda periodically glancing at his father’s sleeping form with what he knows to be affectionate humor, although he isn't certain that he understands either concept completely, at least not when it comes to his father._

_He himself had been delighted to spend hours crouching in the sand at the edge of the water, digging into the bubbling surf to catch the curious organisms that burrowed therein.  He is pleased now to experience again the satisfaction of discovering the tiny crustaceans and the childish delight in being surrounded by the extravagance of limitless water.  With each wave that breaks gently upon the shore, he rises and follows the frothy crescent to its apex in search of more of the creatures, then kneels again to excavate the bubbling holes they leave as they tunnel below the surface of the sand.  Amanda had urged him to take a dip in the sea, but he had refused; Vulcans are naturally dense, and even with his hybrid physiology, swimming is too difficult a feat for him to perform even in the calm of a pool, his strokes lurching and off-balance with the effort it takes to keep himself afloat.  He can only imagine how much more difficult the task would be in the churning waves of the ocean and contents himself instead with his inquiry into the ecology of the sandy shore, satisfied to feel the warm sun on his back, tepid water swirling around his ankles and knees, and the increasing briskness of the breeze ruffling his hair._

_So absorbed is he in his investigations that it is a few moments before he realizes that someone is crying out his name.  He looks up to see his mother standing about eighty meters up the shore by her swaying beach umbrella, waving her hands and motioning for him to get up.  Wondering how he had come to be so far removed from them, he gazes at his parents with curiosity, noting that Sarek is still seated but awake now, his eyes on his son, apparently unperturbed by what is causing Amanda such alarm.  She calls out again, and father and son turn their heads away from each other to follow where she is now pointing in agitation._

_He freezes when he sees the giant azure wave, whipped by the wind until it is taller than he, advancing rapidly from the sea inland toward him.  The beach around him is now nearly dry, the surf having retreated abruptly in its sacrificial drive to feed the approaching wall of water, and he notices with a little dejection that the shoreline crustaceans are no longer in evidence, their holes already filled with sand as they burrow deeper to escape the looming threat.  He looks again to the swell of ocean, observing it from his kneeling position and forcing himself into a reasonable calm as he tries to formulate a plan of action.  Amanda is nearly hysterical now as she screams at her son to move away and at her husband to assist him; although he cannot clearly hear her words, her emotional turmoil bleeds over into his own mind and threatens to unhinge him.   He focuses instead on Sarek, whose voice is oddly intelligible in his ear.   “My wife,” he hears his father intone, “this is the reason we came here.  You cannot expect our son to run away.”   Indeed, cowardice in front of his father is to be avoided at all cost, so running away as his mother urges is not now and never has been his best option.  He does briefly consider digging as the tiny crabs do to evade the ocean’s blow but decides that such a course is illogical, that he will just endure the energy of the towering wave.  But he has underestimated its force._

_It strikes, tossing his slight child’s body and slamming it back down to the sand.  His flailing hands try to scoop at the sand for leverage, but suddenly there is none; his fingers claw in vain at the rushing water as the rip current pulls him away from the beach and toward the open ocean.  An electric shock of fear forks through his body as he gasps in a lungful of bitter seawater.  Holding his breath, he tries to locate the light of the sky to orient himself in the pounding surf.  Success; he digs into the water and pulls himself up enough to get his head above the surface, coughing out the fluid he has inhaled and replacing it with a precious draught of air.  His gasps are loud and frantic in his ears._

_His relief is short-lived as a second wave follows quickly upon the heels of the first.  He feels the seawater close over his head again as he is driven even further beneath the surface, unable to feel any sand beneath his hands or feet.  He pushes his limbs through a dogpaddling stroke in an attempt to move upwards, but he can no longer determine which way is up.  All about him is nothing but blue, thunderous, rolling ocean, pushing him farther out to sea._

_A third wave buries him, then a fourth.  There is no respite now from the pummeling ocean as the powerful waves follow in rapid succession.  He is blind to everything but the infinite blue expanse around him, deaf to everything but the roaring of his own blood in his ears.  He cannot help inhaling again, nothing but seawater anymore, no air left in him even to sputter the breath out, the searing of his lungs matched by the thumping agony in his side.  The blue yields to black, at first just around the edges, then completely._

_***_

“Body temperature stable at 37 degrees, Doctor,” announces Marcus.  “Pulse is 60, BP 98/62.”  She looks questioningly at McCoy, who peers at the biobed sensors and nods with cautious satisfaction.  “Good, good.  Let’s see if we can get him out of the damn cryotube.  I don’t want it in the way if we don’t need it anymore.”  He shifts his gaze to Spock and begins, “Spock, if you can hear me...” then pauses, uncertain.  Something about the first officer’s manner alarms him, but he can’t fathom just what it is.  

“Spock?  Is everything all right?” 

_Come on, I know you can hear me, you crazy pointy-eared freak._

There is no response from the seated figure next to the bed.  Outwardly, nothing has changed; Spock’s posture is still straight, his eyes closed and his expression calm, his right hand still resting lightly on Kirk’s face.  But somewhere in McCoy’s brain, an alarm bell is sounding, and he’s damned if he can figure out why. 

“Carol, run a quick scan of Spock’s vital signs.  I’m gonna try and pull the cryotube off.”  

McCoy positions himself at the foot of the biobed and tugs at the base of the cryotube while Marcus briefly scans Spock from behind.  “His vitals are normal, Doctor,” she responds, a little too brightly; he knows she is trying to put him at ease, and he appreciates the gesture as much as the implied condescension infuriates him.  His only response is a deepening frown.  

He pulls harder on the tube and places it on one shoulder, tipping it upward to slide Kirk’s limp body out.  “God  _damn_ , this thing is heavy,” he grunts.  “Make sure Spock doesn’t disengage.  I’m gonna have to shake the captain out of this fucking thing.”

Marcus’ slender hands gently enclose Spock’s and hold it in position while McCoy huffs under the heavy cryotube.  Inch by inch Kirk emerges from his erstwhile cocoon until he is finally free, his body sprawling on the biobed in an attitude of normal slumber that is curiously at odds with his current condition.  McCoy lets the metal case drop to the sickbay floor with a curse and a loud clanging, then groans and leans forward at the waist to place his hands on his knees.  Panting hard from the exertion, he looks up at Spock for a reaction -- still nothing, which should reassure him.  It does not.  

“Scan them both from stem to stern.  I got a bee in my bonnet and can’t put my finger on why.”  Marcus nods and releases Spock’s hand, then lifts Kirk’s arm from where it lies dangling carelessly off the biobed and places it next to his side before pulling the bed’s sheet up to his waist.  She scans both Human and Vulcan for vital signs as McCoy wearily sinks into a chair.

_gonna prescribe me a bedtime muscle relaxant maybe something stronger too fuck yeah_

“All vitals are within normal parameters, Doctor,” she says after a few moments, all trace of condescension gone from her voice.  “Both patients are stable.”

McCoy’s frown does not lessen, but he makes up his mind.  “Okay,” he replies, “I guess we’re good to go.”  He unwraps several antiseptic wipes and thoroughly swabs the right side of Kirk’s neck, then inserts an intravenous line into the external jugular with the ease of years of practice.  After taping the line securely, he connects the line to the tubing of the serum separator and begins purging it of air bubbles. He speaks over his shoulder as he works.

“Spock, if you can hear me,  we’re fixin’ to transfuse Jim with Khan’s serum.  It’s gonna be about five minutes ‘til we’re ready to go.”  

He waits for a response, but the first officer’s face in profile is unmoving.


	5. Chapter 5

_An airless gasp, followed by a sharp intake of breath.  Air, not water.  A cough and another grateful breath follows._

_He opens his eyes to the hot Terran sun.   He is lying on the beach, the ocean a comfortable distance away, calm and harmless.  A turn of his head allows the sight of naked toes dug into sand; his gaze drifts along the line from feet to legs to squatting haunches and up past the chest, shoulders, throat, and finally the face beneath a shock of disarrayed hair, regarding him back primarily with curiosity but also a fair amount of concern.  It takes him a moment to realize that he himself is likely the cause of that concern._

_He wills himself to slow his breathing._

_//You all right?//_

_He nods and raises himself on his elbows. The concern on Kirk’s face shifts to something both apologetic and sardonic._

_//I told you you wouldn’t like it.  I got a shitload of issues.//_

_//I am not displeased by your mind.//_

_Kirk narrows his eyes, disbelieving._

_//I was pretty sure you’d be pissed.  Especially all the shit about you.//_

_//I am...surprised.  And somewhat overwhelmed.  The thoughts of a Human mind are ordinarily rather chaotic...//_

_//Well, we don’t have that Vulcan discipline thing going on.  It’s harder for us.//_

_//I am not criticizing, only explaining.//_

_//Sorry.  Go on.//_

_//Very well.  I was about to state that, while I find Human thoughts to be generally erratic in nature, yours are, while not distinctly orderly, not displeasing.  The capacity of your cognitive processes is prodigious.//_

_//THANK you, I THINK.//_

_//You think correctly.  It was meant as a compliment.//_

_Kirk nods and looks down at his toes as they burrow deeper into the yielding sand._

_//So you’re not mad, or...//_

_//No.//_

_//...disappointed...?//_

_He finds himself in the familiar predicament of having caused pain when none was intended and has learned, from several such instances, that a direct refutation of the supposed cause of the offense is the best strategy._

_Kirk looks back up at him, squinting against the bright sun, his eyes glittering in the tense question of his face._

_He forces himself to breathe._

_//You do not disappoint me.//_

_Relaxing slightly into gentle laughter.  //Liar.//_

_//Vulcans do not lie.  I presume you anticipated that I would find your mind so repellent that you thought it necessary to prevent me from accessing it.//_

_//You’ve pointed out my irrationality before.  It makes a guy gun-shy.//_

_//Your irrationality is characteristic of your species.  I did not intend it as a personal criticism.//_

_//Right...//_

_//Captain, nothing in your mind warrants concealment from me, I assure you.//_

_Kirk nods and picks up an errant piece of seaweed.  His fingers toy with it before starting to pull it apart._

_//What the hell is happening?  Why are you here -- are you dead too?//_

_He rises to a sitting position and faces Kirk, head bent over the slowly disintegrating algal leaves in his hands, eyes avoiding him._

_//Negative.  Our physical bodies are in sickbay.  The doctor placed you in cryostasis to preserve your brain function while he prepares to regenerate your body using Khan’s blood serum.//_

_Kirk is silent for a moment as he picks at the seaweed._  

_//Spock, I know I died.  I felt myself go.//_

_//Your body was indeed deceased, but the doctor managed to restore heart and lung function, albeit at a reduced rate.  Your mind is very much alive, as you should be able to deduce from the fact that we are having this conversation.//_

_//How do I know I’m not just dreaming you up?   Like tunnels and white lights?//_

_//I assure you, Captain, I am not a hallucination.  What you are perceiving is my mind connected to yours.//_

_//Yeah, I guess that’s logical.  If I were really hallucinating, I’d come up with someone a hell of a lot prettier than you.//_

_//If you are attempting to insult me, you have failed.//_

_//You lie like a rug.//_

_He raises one eyebrow at Kirk, who grins back in return, his eyes bright against reddening cheeks.  The beginning of a sunburn._

_//So, what is this place?  Why are we here?//_

_//Even for many Vulcan minds, pure thought is difficult to experience in the absence of  a corporeal frame of reference.  Our cognition has been overlaid onto a physical circumstance to facilitate contextualization.//_

_//Because without it, it would drive you crazy?//_

_//Perhaps; my telepathic skills are indeed somewhat substandard compared to those of Vulcans of pure blood.  However, it is more likely that_ **_your_  ** _mind would not be able to withstand the incursion of an abstract consciousness without such a framework in which to experience it.//_

_A frown creases Kirk’s forehead as he looks down at his feet.  He resumes the destruction of the seaweed in his hands._

_//Again, I mean no offense.  Your species, being psi-null, has no natural capacity to accommodate the blending of what would ordinarily be an isolated mind with that of another.  In this instance there is the additional concern that your brain may be physically compromised due to the intense radiation to which you were exposed in the warp core as well as the subsequent oxygen deprivation you endured prior to the doctor's initiation of resuscitation procedures.   We are wise to be cautious.//_

_The frown deepens.  Sweat is starting to roll down the side of his face._

_//Why did you pick this place?  It’s nice but it’s too fucking hot.//_

_//I did not choose this setting voluntarily, nor in isolation.  Our combined thoughts and memories operate together to create the frame of reference in which we find ourselves.//_

_Kirk brushes his palms together to disperse the shredded bits of seaweed, then stands and drags the back of one hand across his eyes to clear the sweat.  He turns toward the lapping surf, now several more meters away than just a moment before._

_//So what’s going to happen to me?//_

_//Dr. McCoy is preparing a transfusion with Khan’s serum.  It restored life to the tribble upon which the good doctor experimented, so the hope is that it will do the same for you.//_

_//Well, hope’s better than nothing, I guess.//_

_//Captain, we do not know the effects of this serum.  Humans are not tribbles.  It could well fail.//_

_//If it does, I’m no worse off than I was before.//_

_//True.//_

_It occurs to him that witnessing Kirk’s second death would in fact be rather worse for himself and suppresses the thought from intruding into their shared consciousness._

_//I don’t get it.  Khan..he’s just donating a pint of blood to me?  After he literally kicked the shit out of me on the Vengeance?  I’m not exactly his favorite thing, so why would he do that for me?//_

_//He agreed to do so.//_

_//Why?//_

_//I asked nicely.//_

_Kirk’s head spins to gape at him as he shakes with laughter._

_//And they say Vulcans don’t have a sense of humor!//_

_//I am attempting to improve my skill at banter.//_

_//Well, you’re succeeding.  That was a good one.//_

_More sweat trickles down Kirk’s face; he absently wipes it away with a forearm.  The sunburn on his face and shoulders is alarmingly vivid and spreading to the rest of his upper body._

_//What are the chances of the transfusion working?//_

_//Difficult to compute.  There are too many unknown variables.//_

_//Come on, Spock.  Usually you give me at least three significant figures.//_

_//I confess to an inability...//_

_or unwillingness_

_//...to attempt such a calculation in this case.//_

_I find I do not wish to estimate the likelihood of failure._

_That thought, he cannot suppress._

_//Or it could work.  Let’s plan on that.//_

_//As you prefer.//_


	6. Chapter 6

“Doctor, the captain’s body temperature is rising.”

McCoy shakes his head and blinks hard, several times.  Fatigue weakens his eyes, now accustomed to the close range at which he has been working for some minutes to prime the transfusion line, and they refuse to refocus from the tubing in his hands to the biobed readings.  "Give me the readout," he calls, recoiling the now air-purged serum line.

Marcus’ voice is urgent.  “37.6...38...Doctor, it’s 38.4 and still climbing.  Heart rate 107.  Blood pressure falling.”

The alarm bell in his brain is sounding louder than ever; he curses himself for ignoring it earlier as he squints in an attempt to discern the values for himself.  When he finally sees the temperature reading, his stomach twists with dread.

“Shit, and I just got him out of the damn cryotube.  Carol, drop the temp on the IV to 20.  We need to get his body temperature down right away or we’re gonna cook his brain.”  He moves across the room to a cabinet opposite Khan's biobed and digs in the bottom for several cooling wraps as Marcus types the new parameters into the intravenous infusion pump.  Together they pack the largest wraps around his trunk and limbs, reserving the smaller ones for his neck and forehead.  Carol places these tentatively, fearful of disrupting Spock's contact, but he does not stir.

Marcus glances anxiously at the biobed display, then at McCoy.   "His temperature is still rising, but more slowly.  It's 39.7 right now...39.8..."

"Cut the IV temp to 10 degrees.  We gotta get this under control right now."  

_what is it what did i miss infection sepsis what what_

"Doctor, is it the serum?  Did it spike a febrile reaction?”

The alarm bell in McCoy’s head rings shrilly once more, then silences.  

_shit fire i forgot the xeno hypo god fuckin' moron_

"Grab that vial of Xenograf from the cabinet behind you, third shelf down."   Marcus nods and whirls toward the drug cabinet while McCoy attaches an empty vacutainer to Kirk’s jugular line.  Dark red blood sluggishly fills the tube.  He imagines it thick with white blood cells, pyrogens, factors from a million cascade reactions conspiring to reject the foreign serum.

_xenobiology 101 the hell is wrong with you leo_

He snatches the vial from Marcus' hand, trading it for the tube of blood.  "Run this over to the lab and request a full cytological profile."   He fumbles on the instrument tray for an empty hypo, calculates quickly, and loads it.

“I'm a goddamned idiot.  Carol, you just saved the captain’s life.” 

She flushes.  “I’ll get that sample to the lab right away, Doctor.”

He pressures in the Xenograf and watches the biobed's temperature display.  Below it, the mummified body of his friend swathed in cold blue plastic, armored now but somehow more vulnerable.

_this one's on me i'm sorry_

_sweet baby jesus please_

 

_***_

_//Captain, the doctor has already injected you with a bolus of Khan’s serum.  They are working to stabilize your vital signs before proceeding with the transfusion.//_

_Kirk shakes sweat out of his eyes and mops them with the heels of both hands._

_//So how is all this gonna go down?//_

_He stands and brushes the sand off his limbs.  The sun has become unpleasantly hot, even for him. He turns to find Kirk's expectant gaze on him, his mouth set against the pain of the sunburn that now flares angry pink and red over most of his body._

_//I suggest we remain melded throughout the regeneration process.  Because I will be aware of the events occurring in sickbay, I can relay them to you.  You will know at all times what is happening, which should mitigate your concerns.//_

_//Do I have a reason to be concerned?//_

_//Unknown.  Dr. McCoy neglected to conduct a post-procedure interview with the tribble.//_

_//Seriously, Spock?//_

_//My apologies.  I was attempting to use humor to diffuse your apprehension.//_

_//I didn’t say I was apprehensive...//_

_//You forget, our minds are joined.//_

_//Oh yeah.//_  

_//The procedure could be...unpleasant.  Your dead and dying tissues will be regenerating at a very rapid rate.  It is vital that you consider any discomfort as being of a healing nature rather than a destructive one.//_

_//Okay, got it.  No pain, no gain.//_

_//An appropriate aphorism.//_

_He extends his hands in front of him, wrists flexed and palms facing Kirk, who mirrors him so that their palms lie against each other's.  The skin of the Human is unnaturally warm against his; the temperature on the beach has become almost unbearable._

_//Try not to break this contact, Captain.  It will be easier for you to remain mindful if I help you focus.//_

_//Why, because your mind is so much more disciplined than mine?//_

_//Affirmative.//_

_//Thanks a LOT.  You really know how to hurt a guy.//_

_//You already know this to be true.  Feigning offense is pointless.//_

_//I was attempting to use humor to diffuse your apprehension.//_

_//I am not apprehensive, Captain.//_

_//You forget, our minds are joined.//_

_He is momentarily speechless.  Kirk laughs gently._

_//Just teasing.  Are they ready to go?//_

_//I believe so.  It should be only a few moments before Drs. McCoy and Marcus start the transfusion.//_

_He interlaces their fingers to lock their hands together.  Kirk closes his eyes._

_//Hang on, Spock.//_

_//I do not intend to let go.//_


	7. Chapter 7

 

“Body temperature stabilized at 37.8 degrees.”  The relief in Marcus' voice is palpable.

McCoy peers at the biobed sensors.  “That’s a little high but I’ll take it.  BP is 94/60, pulse 90...that’s good enough for us to get started.  Let's get the cold packs off."

Marcus removes the wraps, stacks them on the biobed behind her, and checks the temperature readings.  No change; she nods at the doctor with reassurance.

"Stand by to start that infusion on my mark.”

Carol readies her hand on the infusion pump's controls.

“Keep those cold wraps ready in case we need to cool him back down.  Check that we have that extra dose of Xenograf on hand, just in case.”  

“Yes, doctor.  I have it here.”

McCoy racks his exhausted brain for something else to check over before they start the procedure.  He finds nothing.  

He passes the tricorder one last time over Kirk’s body, its digital display telling him nothing he doesn't already know.

He knows he is procrastinating, delaying.

_boy quit your dilly-dallyin'_

Marcus is regarding him with unease. He cannot afford the indecision any longer.  

_get this show on the road_

He had never noticed before what an effort it is to speak, to coordinate the simultaneous contraction of multiple facial muscles with those of the mouth and throat to produce words.  To accomplish all that, and then to remember to breathe, to appropriately time the exhalation of air by the diaphragm to give those words movement to the ears of another...

_go go go do it come on now boy_

“Carol, start the infusion on my mark."

_that's it that's right good man keep going_

"Three...two...one... _now_.”  

_good_

Marcus taps the infusion pump’s keypad as McCoy checks the jugular line.  Together they watch tensely as the luminescent golden serum flows from the separator tank through the tubing toward the line in Kirk’s neck.  After a few moments, she announces, “Vital signs are still stable, Doctor.  No changes.”

_okay that's good first do no harm_

_hope this is the right thing the right thing to do_

His gaze turns to Spock, still seated next to the biobed, eyes closed, the fingers of his right hand spread across the meld points on Kirk’s left jaw, cheek, and forehead.  He checks the time and sighs, afraid to sit down himself.   

_say something speak to him them_

“Well, Spock, we’re doing our part.  I hope to hell you’re doing yours.”  

 

_***_

_//Captain, Dr. McCoy informs us that the transfusion has begun.//_

_//Okay.//_

_//I wish to re-emphasize that any discomfort you may feel shortly will be a positive indication...//_

_His thought is interrupted by a gasp from Kirk, whose eyes have snapped open, his face registering surprise, then shock._

_He feels the torture bloom in his own mind as he sees Kirk start to collapse onto the burning sand.  He tears one hand away and grabs at the back of Kirk’s head, pulling his face into the side of his neck as he flings his other arm around his shoulders to support him as they fall to their knees together.  He feels Kirk mindlessly clawing at his back, his neck and shoulder only partly muffling the screams._

_//Captain, listen.  You must listen.  I feel your body’s pain as much as you do.  Listen to me and I will help you control it.//_

_No response.  He can feel helpless tears on his neck as Kirk sobs in agony and terror._

_His voice in the captain’s ear is low and urgent._

_//Jim, listen.//_

_//Listen to me.//_

_//You must not be afraid.  The pain is not due to tissue damage, it is due to tissue healing.  You must remember this and not react with fear, or you will not be able to manage it.//_

_It is useless; Kirk is incapable of hearing him, his mind an impenetrable sheet of black and red._

_He looks around in desperation for something he can use to break through to his thoughts, but all about them is nothing but scorching air and searing sand._

_And, in the distance, a thin strip of green._

_The ocean.  So much farther away but still visible through an atmosphere that shimmers like flame._

_He blinks the sweat from his eyes and scoops up Kirk’s convulsing body with one arm while maintaining a hold on his head with the other._

_He starts to walk._

_***_

 

“Spock!  What’s wrong?”

Carol looks over from her inspection of the infusion pump, surprised at the urgency in McCoy’s voice, and recognizes the reason for his cry.  Spock’s face has drained of color; only the shadows below his closed eyes retain a greenish-purple hue.  His head has drooped forward on his chest, and his hand on Kirk’s face is trembling.  

McCoy aims a tricorder at Spock and carries out a quick scan.

“Damnit, his blood pressure's really dropped -- almost undetectable.  Heart rate is slowed as well, 120 bpm.”  He hands the tricorder to Marcus.  "Check the captain's vitals again, make sure he's not going south on us too."  She does so, compares the readings to those displayed on the biobed, and shakes her head.  Nothing.

_gotta stop this now can't lose him too_

McCoy speaks directly in the first officer’s ear.  “Spock, if you can hear me, listen to me.  Your vitals are way off.  You need to break the meld.  I don’t know why but it’s hurting you.  Break if off.”  He watches Spock carefully for a response, sees none.  

_go go go_

"Carol, keep the tricorder on Spock.  I’m gonna separate them.”  McCoy moves to Spock’s other side and places his hands on top of Spock’s, pulling at the index finger gently, then with more force as he realizes the strength with which the connection is being maintained. 

“Come on, Spock, you stubborn mule, let go!”  McCoy applies all the effort he dares to pull Spock’s hand away.

_god damnit come on break it off break off_

“ _No_.”

Spock’s voice as he utters the single word is unrecognizable; low, rasping, and paper-thin.  McCoy releases his hand and places his own on Spock’s shoulder as he leans forward to address the commander’s bent head.

“Spock, it’s killing you.  You have to break the meld.”

“Negative, Doctor.  I will remain.” 

_god he's even more of a dumbass than i am_

“Listen, you idiot, it won’t matter that you 'remain' if you’re dead!  Let Carol and me handle the captain.  You gotta watch out for yourself.  Spock!   _Do you hear me?!_ ”  

Spock nods almost imperceptibly, his closed eyes dark blotches in his ashen face.  “I do hear you, Doctor.  My response is unchanged.”  

McCoy shakes his head, disbelieving, as he straightens over Spock’s seated form.  “Well, then, go right ahead.  Do whatever the hell you want.  Kill yourself too.  That’s gonna be just great.  That way we’ll lose both of you.”  

The bitterness in his voice draws a startled look from Marcus, but Spock has already stopped listening.  His fingers still in place, he draws in one long breath, then lets it out as he leans forward in his chair and rests his forehead on Kirk’s chest.


	8. Chapter 8

_I walked in a desert._

_And I cried,"Ah, God, take me from this place!"_

_A voice said, "It is no desert."_

_I cried, "Well, But --_

_The sand, the heat, the vacant horizon."_

_A voice said, "It is no desert."_

 

_***_

 

_The walk to the sea seems endless._

_//I know you are attracted to her, and I do not blame you.  She is truly exquisite in every way.  And I know she is fond of you.  Were I fully human, I suppose I would be jealous.  As it happens, I am gratified at your approval of my choice.//_

_He stops once again to readjust the load in his arms.  The captain is a hot, dead weight, his spasms of pain having given way to exhausted trembling._

_//I do not understand your rage at your father.  Had he not made the sequence of decisions that he did, you would not have survived to be here.  Is not gratitude the logical response?//_

_He keeps up a running monologue, trying to break back through the wall of Kirk’s mind as they traverse the desert-like beach toward the water’s edge.  He is aware that his reflections have become annoyingly undisciplined as the heat and the thirst and the pain of his sand-burned feet have intensified, but he persists._

_//I know now that you and I have melded before, on Delta Vega.  Is that why you resisted me earlier?  Was it an unpleasant experience with my older self?  I apologize if that is the case.//_

_He is tiring from the constant torment of Kirk’s physical pain, every bit of which he feels through the meld as though it were his own body that is suffering.  But it is the captain’s unresponsiveness to his thoughts that he finds more draining as he struggles to support the two of them in the dizzying heat of Kirk’s delirium.  He knows the truth of the doctor's words: he will not be able to maintain this course of action for much longer._

_//I would like to try this beverage called bourbon.  Vulcans generally do not use drugs of any sort, but I see you are curiously fond of this one.  Does it not distress you to lose your physical and mental faculties when under its influence?//_

_The scorching air recalls to his mind the recent incident in the volcano on Nibiru, and he realizes that, uncomfortable as that experience was, it was almost literally nothing compared to this torture.  And this time, there will be no Kirk to save his ass -- he manages to smile at Kirk's once-bitter turn of phrase -- unless he can break through and save his._

_He failed to accomplish that once, in the warp core.  He acknowledges that he will die trying before failing again._

_//I see you have a predilection for sexual relations with non-Humans.  Fascinating.  I myself am obviously involved with a non-Vulcan.  I wonder what it is about us both, that we stray from our own kind, at least when it comes to romantic entanglements?//_

_But it is so hot, and he is so tired._

_//I loved my mother very much, you know. At the time, I thought I should never forgive you for questioning that sentiment.  But I did, remarkably.  I believe I did almost at once.  I am pleased now to sense your regret at so manipulating me.  But I suppose my response could be construed as being somewhat disproportionate to the stimulus.//_

_It will be over soon, one way or another.  He closes his eyes and uses the last of his strength to clasp Kirk more tightly._

_//I promise you, I will never hurt you again.//_

_Completely spent, he falls to his knees.  They contact a steaming dampness._

_At long last._

_He drops Kirk into the wet sand, the ocean's green water foaming slightly as it laps at him.  Panting and crawling, he pushes with nerveless arms at the unresponsive body, rolling it down the beach into the water.  He drags himself in afterwards and groans with relief as the water surrounds them and pulls them softly away from the shore._

_Kirk floats on his back, his unseeing eyes open to the searing sun.  He heaves one arm up and over him to pull him in close and speaks directly into his ear._

_//Captain, try to feel the wave.  It will not hurt you.  It heals you.  It comes, and you float up; it passes and you sink down.  Each time you are better and stronger for it.//_

_As he speaks, a gentle wave swells under them, lifting them both up.  He clings to Kirk’s body, grateful for its relative buoyancy as he feels the surge lift him off his feet and pull them farther into the sea._

_//As a wave of pain comes, try to float up over it, then relax at it recedes.  Remember that it restores you without damaging you.  Here comes another.  Try.//_

_The ocean rises and drops and pulls at their bodies.  They are in two meters of water now; his toes barely graze the gritty bottom as he fights to keep his head level with Kirk’s.  His voice in the captain’s ear is now barely a whisper._

_//Captain, I am weakening.  You must try to control your discomfort.  I know you are fatigued, but without your effort, we will not succeed.//_

_His grip on Kirk’s midsection falters and his head briefly slips below the surface of the water.  He flails wearily and comes spluttering back up for air, one arm weakly looped around the captain’s biceps to keep himself afloat, gasping in desperation at the blank face in profile before him._

_//I need your help, Jim.  Now.  Please.//_

_Finally, a response.  He sees one eye move to focus on him, the blue pool widening in recognition._

_//I CAN’T//_

_//You can.//_

_//I CAN’T IT HURTS TOO MUCH//_

_//Every bit of pain you feel brings you closer to life, not farther from it.  You must remember that this pain is not harming you but is bringing you back.//_

_//BACK//_

_//To life, yes.//_

_//BRINGING ME BACK...//_

_//To your ship, the Enterprise, your crew, to all of us.//_

_//TO YOU//_

_//That is correct.//_

_Another wave approaches; he coughs out seawater and nods his head in its direction._

_//Look, Captain.  Here comes another one.  Float upward with it, use it to heal and to recover.  Do not be afraid.  It will not harm you.//_

_//DON’T LET ME GO//_

_//Do not fear.  I will not.//_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I Walked in a Desert" by Stephen Crane (1905)


	9. Chapter 9

 

“Doctor, their vital signs are normalizing!”  

Carol’s exclamation brings a weary, guarded sigh from McCoy, who turns from recording Khan's biobed readings as he asks, “Normalizing, as in, approaching normal?”

“Yes, doctor!”  Marcus continued her tricorder scan, her face alight with excitement.  “The captain’s body temperature is down...currently 37.2 degrees.”

McCoy moves to her side at the biobed and lays a hand across Kirk’s forehead to find the skin cool beneath his palm.  Unconvinced, he moves his hand to touch his throat, then his chest.

_sumbitch cooler than a welldigger's ass in Idaho_

“Well, what the hell do you know about that...What are Mr. Spock’s vitals?”

Marcus moves to Spock’s side and scans him as he lies quietly on Kirk’s upper body.  “Heart rate and blood pressure are both climbing into the normal range,” she answers, both disbelief and relief in her voice.   

“I’ll be goddamned.  That Vulcan must have done something right,” he replies, wonderingly.

_don't cry dumbass_

Carol wrinkles her forehead in consternation at the unscientific conclusion the ship’s doctor has just voiced.  “Or perhaps the immunosuppressant kicked in,” she suggests archly.

This time, McCoy takes no offense at her tone and merely nods.

“We’ll have to keep an eye on that immune response,” he agrees out loud.  But he knows.

_no way xenograf caused that kinda turnaround no way in fucking hell_

He places a weary hand on the warmth of Spock's neck and squeezes.

_thank you i can't even jesus just_   _thank you_

Out loud: "Cut the serum flow but keep the dextrose.  I'll comm down to Starfleet Medical and get him transferred earthside.  Dunno how long it'll be before he wakes up, and they can do more for him down there than we can up here."

"Doctor."  Her voice is soft.  "You've done everything for him already."

McCoy shakes his head.  "He's not out of the woods yet."

_it wasn't me, darlin'_

_***_

 

_//Captain.//_

_//Mm hmm...?//_

_//May I inquire as to your current status?//_

_//Really, REALLY tired.  I just want to lie here and die.//_

_//Indeed, after the efforts we have made to prevent that precise eventuality...//_

_//Spock, I’m kidding, come on.//_

_//I do not see the humor at this moment.//_

_//Sorry.  Truly, I’m sorry.  I’m just playing with you.//_

_Their arms are still linked as they lie on their backs in the sand, the swollen sun low in the sky and robbed of its burning heat, the sky surrendering its brilliant blue to the violet of approaching evening.  The warm surf bubbles around their feet as it approaches and recedes with the falling tide.  He shivers in the coolness, eyes closed, luxuriating in a sensation he normally finds distressing._

_//As you are obviously well enough to ‘play,’ I will break the mind-meld shortly and allow you to recover fully, in private.//_

_Kirk rolls on his side and props up his head on one hand to gaze intently at the alien face, pale against the darkening sand._

_//Spock...//_

_//A moment, please.  I feel a touch of vertigo.//_

_//I want you to know how grateful I am.  I couldn't  have gotten through this without your help.//_

_//Thanks are unnecessary, Captain.  It was fortuitous that I could be of assistance in your recovery.//_

_//Fortuitous my ass.  I know that you chose to do what you did.  I owe you, big time.//_

_//I will be satisfied with compensation in the form of a beverage.  Bourbon will do nicely.//_

_//Hell, you couldn’t handle it.  But I would love to see you shitfaced.//_

_//I am certain that I would handle the exposure far better than you have done in the past.//_

_//That’s a low blow, my friend.//_

_He pushes himself up on one elbow to mirror Kirk's position and opens his eyes to meet those of the Human.  The captain reaches for his hand and clasps it tightly._

_//Seriously.  Spock.  Thank you.//_

_//As I have already said, thanks are unnece...//_

_//Shut the fuck up already.//_

_He smiles._

_//As you wish, sir.//_

_//When will I see you again?//_

_//I will contrive to be with you when your physical body awakens.  It may be some time.  You still have much to recover from.//_

_//How will you know? When it's time, I mean?//_

_He considers revealing the entire truth but decides against it._

_//I will know.//_

_A frown momentarily creases Kirk's forehead, then dissipates as he lowers himself to lie down on his side, his head pillowed on his arm._

_//Okay, I can wait.  All I want to do is sleep anyway.//_

_//Then I leave you to your rest.//_

_He knows he will ask, later._

_He releases Kirk's hand and floats his own up to touch his face at its meld points._

_//When I remove my fingers, the meld will be broken.//_

_KIrk's eyes start to droop._

_//I’m going to miss you, Spock.//_

_Silence._

_//Oh come on, for the love of...//_

_//I am just playing with you, Captain.  I will miss you as well.//_

_***_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo hoo! The end! I resisted the temptation to add another Sickbay scene to wrap things up in the physical reality because I wanted the story to begin and end with Jim and Spock in each other's minds (pooh reality, who needs you?). If you were waiting for the smexy stuff, sorry, but I think it would be radically OOC for the time frame this little scene is set it. I've saved that for my other attempts at shipping these two awesome characters. And Bones! I love him so much! GAHHHH!
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading!!
> 
> Peace and Love.


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